Island Affair (Keys to Love #1)(34)
Up ahead, Robin and Edward peered around others gathered to watch a sword-swallower wow them with his talents. Sara’s parents had wandered off, called as if by the Pied Piper in the guise of an older gentleman dressed in Scottish regalia, his thick thighs flexing under his kilt as he moved to the beat of the bagpipes he played. Enamored by a vendor’s seashell jewelry display, Carolyn had dragged Jonathan over to help select a gift for little Susan. The three-year-old was on a Little Mermaid kick at the moment, dreadfully sad about missing a beach vacation that might potentially include meeting a “reallive mermaid.”
They’d arrived downtown an hour ago and found the wait for a table at El Meson de Pepe would have them eating right as the fiery ball heated the waters during its nightly bath. With the scent of freshly fried conch fritters wafting from one of the vendors nearby, Luis had sent the rest of the group to hunt down the appetizer while he chatted with the restaurant manager, another schoolmate of his. By the time he’d caught up with the group, everyone else in Sara’s family cradled paper boats of fritters in their hands. She had eyed the brown paper napkins mottled with dark spots from the hot grease dripping off the fried balls of breading, conch meat, and spices, then passed on ordering.
Sara nibbled a fritter her parents had nagged her to sample, but did snap a photo of the booth and smiling salesman, promising to tag him in her post-vacation blog next week.
Now she and Luis strolled on the fringes of the revelry so she could take it all in. Whenever the crowd swelled near a performer, Luis put a hand on the small of her back and tucked her closer to his side. Ever the protector, he blocked errant elbows and body shoves from those pushing their way through the masses.
Rising on her toes, Sara craned her neck to see around a tall, gangly teen standing at the back curve of a horse-shoe-shaped crowd oohing and aahing. Inside the half ring, a juggler in ratty sneakers, ripped jeans, and a white tank proclaiming “All’s Better in the Keys” balanced on a unicycle. The bike’s seat and pedals sat about ten feet high. At the top, the juggler jerked the bike forward and backward with his feet, fighting for balance while tossing bowling pins in the air with ease.
“This is a popular place,” she mused.
“You should see it during tourist season, around mid-December to late March or April. Northerners we call snowbirds flock to the Keys to escape the cold. People are packed in here like sardines.” Luis leaned in so she could hear him over the competing music, continual ware hawking, and general conversation.
Her shoulder brushed against his chest and she ordered those butterflies in her belly to hunker down. No use wasting their energy. Absolutely no good would come of their efforts to get her all fluttery over Luis.
During the short drive to Mallory Square, with Jonathan and Carolyn in the truck’s backseat, Sara’s brother peppering Luis with questions about growing up in Key West and wrongly assuming she had visited her boyfriend here before, the gravity of this ruse sank in even more. The compounding lies. Even the ones left unspoken but that allowed her family to believe an untruth she didn’t, couldn’t, correct.
She’d hopped out of the truck with the fleeting idea of admitting everything. Taking Luis off the hot seat. Facing the firing squad of questions her family would barrage her with.
Then, while Luis helped Carolyn climb down from the backseat on the driver’s side, Jonathan had shut the passenger door on their side and skewered Sara’s intent to come clean by revealing, “He seems like a nice guy. I get why Mother’s smitten with him. Seeing you with someone like Luis has her relieved. It’s good.”
With another annoying ruffle of her hair, her brother had sauntered off to catch up with his wife and Luis.
And Sara had been left with no choice but to swallow the truth ready to spring out of her.
That did not, however, give her permission to join her mom on the smitten cruise ship. Not at all.
Instead, Sara vowed to keep a clear head. Avoid as many lies as possible while reminding herself she could not, would not, fall for them herself.
Her therapist would caution her about jumping into something too quickly, remaining cognizant of her need to feel connected to others. How that need manifested in good ways and bad. It’s part of why she excelled as a social media influencer. A benefit in business; a curse when it came to her personal life.
The unicycling juggler finished his act in a flurry of flying bowling balls that had a few onlookers nearby ducking. After a reminder that he earned his keep via their generous tips, he posed for selfies and pictures and called thanks to those who dropped bills into a floppy straw beach hat marked “Donations.”
As she and Luis followed the crowd toward another act farther along the pier, a male voice called out, “?Oye, Santo!”
Luis stiffened beside her. He quickly shifted direction, sliding his big hand along her lower back and guiding her toward the sunset. Away from the row of booths now behind them.
“?San Navarro, ven pa’ca!”
The pressure on her lower back increased.
Sara glanced over her shoulder, then slowed her steps when her gaze collided with a guy in his mid-thirties looking right at her and Luis. “Um, I think someone’s calling you back there.”
“Ignore it,” Luis said, his voice a low growl.
“Did he say, ‘Saint Navarro’?”
Luis nodded. His scowl told her he wasn’t a fan of the nickname.